Illlllllllill 


i 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 

REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Section  )(-f^>G(o 


HYMNS   AND   SONNETS 


HYMNS  AND  SONN] 


■& 


MAR  15  1933 


•4' 


7- 


r >|    CTV 


:\VS 


BY 


ELIZA   SCUDDER 


BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


Copyright,  1880, 
By  ELIZA  SCUDDER. 

Copyright,  1896, 
By  HORACE  E.   SCUDDER. 

All  rights  reserved 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass. ,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  and  Company. 


THE   SISTERS 

"  And  then  I  thought  how  thou  hadst  been  to  me 
Even  as  this  flower.  .  .  . 

Heaven  help  my  heart 
When  the  flower  withers  and  thy  steps  depart." 

Eliza  Scudder  :  The  Laburnum. 

From  dim,  mysterious  forest  depths  they  came 
Where  dwells  the  mighty  Mother ;   whom  from 

birth 
They  worshipped,  till  they  felt  her  beauty's  worth 
In  every  wayside  flower,  and  shared  the  same, 
Sweet  secret  of  a  Soul  whose  gentle  frame 
Was  flowerlike  ;  and,  where'er  they  walked  on 

earth, 
Bright  loves   and   sympathies   sprang   blooming 

forth  ; 
Which   Time  ne'er   withered   with    his   wasting 

flame. 


vi  THE  SISTER. 

And  still  about  their  way  the  gathering  band 
Of  tender  friendships  ever  fairer  grew ; 
Till,  yet  imparted,  with  unfailing  powers, 
They   passed,    together,    through  the   woodland 

bowers, 
Where  every  fragrant  blossom  blooms  anew, 
Back  through  the  forest  roaming  hand  in  hand. 
William  Page  Andrews. 
Capri,  4  November,  1896. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introductory  Note ix 

The  Laburnum xxv 

To  a  Young  Child i 

The  Love  of  God 3 

The  New  Heaven 5 

Epitaph  on  an  Old  Maid 8 

Summer  Departing 11 

The  Dreamer 13 

Truth 15 

The  Quest 17 

In  War  Time 19 

To  G.  S 22 

No  More  Sea 23 

To  L.  M.  C 25 

Whom  but  Thee 27 

In  Memoriam,  F.  D.  B 29 

Out  of  the  Shadow 32 

Lines  for  Music 36 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

Vesper  Hymn 37 

Collect  for  Ascension  Day       ....  40 

Collect  for  Second  Sunday  after  Epiphany       .  43 

Thanksgiving 45 

The  Wild  Rose 49 

The  Morning  Watch 52 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTE 

This  edition  of  Hymns  and  Sonnets  is  a  reprint 
of  the  volume  published  in  1880,  with  two  further 
poems  written  and  printed  since  that  date.  It 
may  cause  some  surprise  to  those  who  knew  the 
author,  that  so  thin  a  book  should  contain  the 
harvest  of  so  rich  a  nature,  and  it  is  not  quite 
easy  for  those  who  knew  hei  best  to  account  to 
themselves  for  the  infrequency  with  which  Miss 
Scudder  wrote.  She  was  so  generous  in  conver- 
sation and  letters,  and  had  so  many  hours  of  en- 
forced quiet  that  it  would  seem  natural  for  her  to 
have  used  verse  as  an  outlet  for  her  overflowing 
spirit.  Yet  fifty  years  lie  between  the  first  and 
the  last  poem  in  this  volume,  and  though  the 
collection  in  the  first  instance  was  the  result  of 
some  sifting,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
the  entire  amount  of  the  writer's  verse  was  much 
greater.     Moreover  there  could   have   been  no 


x  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

discouragement  from  lack  of  recognition.  It  is 
doubtful  if  the  history  of  hymnody  would  show 
of  any  other  writer  so  large  a  number  of  hymns 
in  general  use  in  proportion  to  the  number 
written. 

Perhaps  one  explanation  may  be  found  in  the 
profound  feeling  she  had  for  the  mystery  of 
religion,  which  checked  the  impulse  to  use  as  a 
theme  for  artistic  handling  what  she  cared  for 
most.  Had  the  art  of  poetry  compelled  her,  it 
might  have  been  touched  and  deepened  by  her 
religious  feeling,  but,  though  she  began  to  write 
when  she  was  young,  she  rather  chose  poetic  ex- 
pression than  was  possessed  by  it.  With  her 
affectionate  nature  and  her  love  of  companion- 
ship she  readily  found  expression  for  her  thought 
and  feeling  in  matters  of  common  experience  ;  it 
was  the  travail  of  her  soul  struggling  for  freedom 
which  drew  from  her  the  effort  to  put  into  the 
larger  form  of  poetry  the  successive  spiritual 
triumphs.  Some  intimation  of  her  inner  history 
may  be  drawn  from  a  brief  statement  of  her  out- 
wardly uneventful  life. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  xi 

Eliza  Scudder  was  born  14  November,  182 1. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Eliza  [Bacon]  and  Elisha 
Gage  Scudder;  her  parents  were  both  from 
Barnstable  on  Cape  Cod,  a  town  which  always 
had  more  of  the  restful  virtue  of  home  in  her 
changing  life  than  any  other  place.  Her  father 
was  a  merchant  in  Boston  and  died  when  she 
was  but  an  infant.  Her  mother  lived  till  1869. 
Her  sister  Rebecca,  three  years  her  senior,  mar- 
ried, in  1845,  Mr.  Samuel  Page  Andrews,  living 
first  in  Framingham,  Massachusetts,  and  after- 
ward in  Salem,  where  Mr.  Andrews  was  for  many 
years  clerk  of  the  municipal  court.  Salem  be- 
came thus  one  of  Miss  Scudder's  homes.  The 
exquisite  beauty  of  the  older  sister  seemed  to 
deepen  the  affection  of  the  younger,  and  her 
presence  satisfied  the  love  of  beauty  in  face  and 
character  which  was  a  ruling  passion  with  Eliza 
Scudder.  There  was  a  long  period,  too,  in  the 
younger  sister's  girlhood  when  she  suffered  from 
an  affection  of  the  eyes  which  never  was  wholly 
relieved,  so  that  she  went  through  life,  looking 
at  everything  with  that  eager  glance  which  her 


xii  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

friends  remember  so  well,  yet  almost  wholly  cut 
off  for  long  stretches  of  time  from  reading  or 
from  looking  on  the  paper  when  she  wrote. 
During  this  early  period  the  companionship  of 
her  sister  was  the  supreme  solace  of  her  days. 
Something  of  the  deep  feeling  she  had  for  her 
has  stolen  into  the  verses,  The  Laburnum,  which 
keeps  its  place  as  a  dedicatory  poem. 

Endowed  with  a  religious  nature,  she  early  lis- 
tened to  the  appeal  which  the  church  life  about 
her  made  to  her  conscience,  and  was  received  a 
member  of  the  Trinitarian  division  of  the  Con- 
gregational order.  But  as  her  mind  matured  she 
found  herself  compelled  to  reexamine  the  founda- 
tions of  religious  belief,  and  as  a  result  she  dis- 
sented from  the  formulas  of  Calvinism.  She  was 
drawn  also  by  her  sympathy  with  the  antislavery 
movement,  in  which  she  took  an  active  part, 
into  a  discipleship  of  Gerrit  Smith,  a  companion- 
ship with  Mrs.  Child  and  others,  which  not  only 
quickened  her  intellectually,  but  opened  a  way 
into  fields  of  spiritual  freedom,  which  seemed 
unbounded  by  any  dogmatic  statement.     With- 


IN  TROD  UCTOR  Y  NO  TE  xiii 

out  connecting  herself  formally  with  the  Unita- 
rian denomination,  she  found  herself  more  at 
home  there  than  elsewhere,  and  yet  the  expression 
in  such  hymns  as  The  Love  of  God  and  The  New 
Heaven  indicates  more  surely  the  direction  of  her 
thought,  which  was  of  a  mystic  self-effacement  in 
the  larger  life  of  a  spiritual  reality  outside  of  and 
beyond  herself. 

This  change  in  her  religious  affiliation  brought 
with  it  much  that  was  distressing  in  the  aliena- 
tion of  early  friends  and  their  disapproval  of  her 
course.  She  was,  in  spite  of  her  new  relations, 
very  much  alone,  and  in  the  gently  humorous  and 
pathetic  Epitaph  on  an  Old  Maid,  she  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  sort  of  regard  she  had  for  her- 
self as  she  stood  a  little  off  in  poetic  mood,  and 
smiled  through  her  tears  at  her  own  detachment. 

During  these  years  she  impressed  herself 
strongly  on  her  friends  by  her  eagerness  of  nature 
which  seemed  never  to  find  full  vent  of  expres- 
sion ;  she  was  restless,  though  not  in  the  least 
morbid,  for  there  was  a  singleness  of  purpose  in 
her  dominant  religiousness,  which  was  directed 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

not  toward  herself,  but  toward  truth.  The  un- 
selfishness which  was  so  evident  in  all  her  life 
was  in  nothing  more  noticeable  than  in  her  free- 
dom from  the  error  of  marking  progress  by  the 
effect  upon  herself.  In  ordinary  matters  she 
lost  herself  in  her  friends  ;  in  the  great  things  of 
the  spirit  she  lost  herself  in  God,  and  the  two 
poems,  Truth  and  The  Quest,  record  this  temper  ; 
had  she  died  at  this  time,  her  verses  Out  of  the 
Shadow  would  perfectly  have  reflected  her  most 
intimate  thought  of  herself. 

Thus  when  she  came  to  hear  and  to  know 
Phillips  Brooks,  the  largeness  and  the  objective 
character  of  the  message  which  he  had  to  deliver 
at  once  seized  upon  her  imagination.  Here  was 
a  prophet  who  could  interpret  for  her  the  things 
of  God,  and  the  spirit  which  had  been  thrusting 
itself  in  this  direction  gladly,  impetuously  in- 
deed, laid  hold  of  this  human  help.  But  Phil- 
lips Brooks  spoke  from  the  vantage  ground  of  a 
church  which  stood  for  worship,  and  worship 
which  gathered  the  aspirations  and  prayers  of 
generations  of  seekers  after  God ;  so  that  when 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  xv 

the  new  hearer  was  drawn  also  into  the  use  of 
the  immemorial  services  of  the  Church  she  found 
more  adequate  expression  than  she  had  ever 
known  in  the  field  of  her  greatest  endeavor.  Her 
Lines  for  Music  and  her  Vesper  Hymn  both 
breathe  the  air  of  divine  content. 

It  was  touching  to  those  who  had  followed  her 
thought  during  all  her  pilgrimage  of  the  spirit  to 
mark  the  satisfaction  with  which  she  now  turned 
to  all  that  the  Church  gave  hen  Her  love  for 
her  kinsfolk  and  friends  deepened  as  her  love  for 
the  Elder  Brother  and  Friend,  always  made  the 
centre  of  the  Church's  sacrifice,  found  fuller  and 
richer  expression.  Homeless,  though  cheerful  in 
the  midst  of  her  constant  flittings,  she  now  found 
a  grateful  shelter  in  the  Church  and  its  work. 
Wherever  she  went,  this  was  the  home  to  which 
her  feet  turned,  and,  with  a  sense  of  nearness  to 
the  heart  of  Church  life,  she  became  an  associate 
of  the  Sisterhood  of  S.  Margaret.  From  time 
to  time  she  essayed  now  to  put  into  words 
the  strong  emotion  which  the  worship  of  the 
Church  called  forth.     She  drew  long  breaths  of 


xvi  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

satisfaction  and  yet  of  unceasing  aspiration.  All 
her  love  of  beauty  in  color  and  form,  all  her 
delight  in  almost  inarticulate  spiritual  brooding 
had  a  healthy  deliverance,  and  soon  she  became 
as  jealous  for  the  honor  of  her  Church  as  for  that 
of  her  dearest  friends. 

It  would  be  leaving  this  mere  outline  of  Miss 
Scudder's  religious  experience  very  incomplete  if 
I  did  not  add  what  The  Morning  Watch  strongly 
intimates,  that  after  she  came  into  the  Church 
there  was  a  very  decided  change  in  her  intel- 
lectual conception  of  religious  truth.  Thence- 
forward there  was  a  deepening  of  her  apprehen- 
sion of  the  Incarnation,  and  she  found  in  the 
eucharistic  sacrifice  such  an  absolute  symbol  of 
her  faith  as  made  all  worship  to  converge  in  it. 
At  last  it  would  seem  as  if  the  beating  of  the 
wings  of  her  spiritual  imagination,  which  had 
borne  her  through  many  flights,  ceased  in  a  still 
poise  before  this  one  ultimate  image  of  God  in 
life.  The  attitude  which  she  took  carried  with 
it  certain  logical  consequences  in  the  authority  of 
the  Church,  and  she  did  not  shrink  from  these, 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  xvii 

but  accepted  them  joyfully,  saddened  only  by  the 
loneliness  which  followed  as  one  or  another  of 
her  friends  failed  her  here. 

Her  life  had  been  one  of  much  privation  as 
regards  health  and  fixed  conditions,  but  she  re- 
tained to  the  last  an  unappeasable  hunger  and 
thirst  for  intellectual  food,  and  her  companionship 
was  a  tonic,  so  invigorating  was  her  spontaneous 
thought.  She  was  the  most  cheerful  of  sufferers, 
and  her  sympathy  with  those  in  any  way  similarly 
disturbed  was  without  a  particle  of  reflex  action. 
She  had  a  genius  for  friendship  and  bestowed  her 
tender  regard  with  such  happy  humor  as  made 
intercourse  with  her  an  unfailing  refreshment. 
Two  or  three  fragments  of  letters  from  her  to 
a  friend,  who  needed  her  sympathy,  have  come 
in  my  way,  and  I  venture  to  add  them  here  as 
illustrative  of  the  gifts  she  gave  so  readily. 

"  I  fear  this  weather  hardly  admits  of  your 
gaining  strength,  and  I  am  afraid  that  my  last 
visit  may  have  been  a  positive  injury  to  you, 
physically.  But  I  cherish  the  vision  of  your 
face,  in  the  darkened  room,  as  you  spoke  of  the 


xviii  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

happiness  that  had  been  given  you  in  the  loneli- 
ness, and  it  is  a  joy  to  have  seen  you  for  even 
so  short  a  time  if  only  it  has  not  harmed  you. 
*  Lead  us  forth  in  the  way  of  life  which  is  the 
way  of  Thy  cross.'  That  is  contains  the  gist  of  a 
very  blessed  lesson  but  hard  to  learn.  I  suspect 
that  the  conflict  between  the  spiritual  and  the 
earthly  mind,  as  set  forth  by  S.  Paul,  is  nowhere 
more  obvious  than  in  this  very  thing  —  the  dif- 
ferent estimate  of  the  cross,  the  sensitive  part  of 
us  always  tending  to  regard  suffering  as  a  thing 
to  be  avoided,  and  the  eye  of  the  soul  getting  very 
gradually  opened  enough  to  see  that  defeat,  disas- 
ter, failure,  are  just  the  most  precious  gifts  that  can 
be  given,  not  indeed  inevitably,  but  yet  surely  to 
those  who  are  taught  how  to  receive  them.  In  a 
time  of  tribulation  (more  expected  than  present 
at  the  time)  last  year,  it  came  to  me  that  there 
were  seven  reasons  (do  not  all  best  things  go  in 
threes  and  sevens  ?)  why  I  should  be  very  patient 
and  even  thankful  if  the  threatened  trouble  came. 
I  am  sorry  that  I  could  not  then  write  them  all 
out,  as  such  things  never  stay  in  their  first  power, 


INTRO D UCTOR Y  NOTE  xix 

but  will  try  some  time  to  do  so,  and  then  give 
them  two  or  three  at  a  time,  perhaps,  to  you." 

"  The  Nook,  Tuesday  p.  m.  So  have  I  named 
one  favorite  haunt,  to  which  I  have  brought  my 
writing,  for  it  is  too  lovely  a  day  to  write  to  you 
in  the  house,  when  I  can  have  all  '  out-of-doors ' 
for  my  talk  with  you.  So  here  I  am  in  one  of 
the  upright  wooden  chairs  which  have  been  be- 
stowed upon  us,  with  my  feet  on  a  mossy  stone, 
the  pine  trees  overarching  me,  and  spreading 
their  broad  arms  around  the  ferns  fringing  the 
carpet  of  pine  needles :  some  little  birds  and 
squirrels  chipping  near  me  ;  the  sun  pouring  in  ; 
the  soft  wind  breathing  around  and  making  the 
music  among  the  leaves  that  sounds  like  the  far- 
off  swell  of  the  sea.  Such  common  elements  and 
yet  so  full  of  charm  and  rest  for  soul  and  body  ! 
I  like  this  place  more  and  more.  Yesterday  we 
found  such  a  walk !  a  mile  or  more  through  a 
deep  and  yet  cheery  wood,  with  all  lovely  green 
things  growing  beneath  our  feet.  I  longed  to  get 
some  of  them  to  you,  but  quite  incidentally  have 
heard  that  you  have  some  of  the  same  sort  from 


xx  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

Shelburne.  There  is  a  bird  (a  wood-thrush,  I 
think,)  which  I  never  fail  to  hear  in  such  lonely 
places,  which  always  reminds  me  of  a  verse  in 
one  of  Carlyle's  translations  :  — 

*  Alone  in  wood  so  gay 
Oh  !  I  do  love  to  stay  ! 
To-morrow  like  to-day, 
Forever  and  aye. 
Oh  !  I  do  love  to  stay 
Alone  in  the  wood  so  gay  ! p 

That  is  very  sweet  —  for  the  bird,  I  think,  but  for 
us  ?  If  the  sunshine  were  not  the  smile  of  our 
Father,  if  the  wind  were  not  the  breath  of  the 
Spirit,  how  cold,  how  mute  it  would  all  be  !  This 
came  home  very  strongly  as  I  sate  alone  just  out- 
side the  wood  yesterday  while  my  friends  went 
on  to  explore  farther.  It  was  so  lonely,  or  would 
have  been  but  for  the  sense  of  the  great  Presence, 
the  immanence,  in  the  natural  beauty,  of  the  un- 
utterable Perfectness." 

"  Monday  —  precise  hour  of  no  consequence. 
...  I  am  happy  here  in  the  friends  and  the 
country,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  much 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  xxi 

more  at  rest  about  the  Church  and  Diocese.  I 
do  think  that  a  conflict  is  impending,  and  that 
no  one  can  guess  what  will  be  the  result.  But  I 
have  come  to  see  in  the  election  of  P.  B.  to  be 
our  Bishop,  an  indication  of  a  great  movement, 
one  of  those  waves  of  popular  feeling  which  rise 
from  the  ground  swell  somewhere  in  the  depths 
of  our  common  nature,  and  are  controlled  by  a 
Divine  purpose.  '  The  Lord  on  high  is  mightier 
than  the  sound  of  many  waters.'  We  need  not 
fear  to  leave  the  Church  to  that  guidance.  What 
I  do  fear  for  myself  is  that  through  spiritual  ob- 
tuseness  I  may  fail  to  see  whither  we  are  to  be 
led.  But  I  surely  wish  to  be  pliant  to  the  teach- 
ing of  events  and  to  lay  aside  any  prepossessions 
which  may  keep  me  from  following  whatever 
new  and  clearer  light  may  be  given." 

"  Day  before  Christmas,  noon.  One  or  two 
thoughts  came  in  the  night,  old  and  oft  repeated, 
and  yet  coming  with  new  power,  of  the  Christ- 
child  coming  in  humility,  in  purity,  in  love. 
This  is  the  ideal  childhood  of  which  one  sees 
only     glimpses     (yet    sometimes     such     lovely 


xxii  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

glimpses  !)  in  the  children  around  us.  The  first, 
as  manifested  in  the  condescension  of  the  Incar- 
nation, is  too  overwhelming  to  be  dwelt  upon  :  — 

1  No  angel  in  the  sky 
Can  wholly  bear  that  sight, 
But  downward  bends  his  burning  eye 
At  mysteries  so  bright.' 

The  second,  like  Alpine  snows,  is  too  dazzling  for 
our  dimmed  sight.  But  how  refreshing  it  is  as 
seen  in  the  comparative  stainlessness  of  even  the 
little  children  whom  we  know.  The  third  let  us 
for  once  call  '  affectionateness.'  That  is  some- 
times so  surprising  and  touching  in  its  sponta- 
neous outflow  from  the  child's  heart.  A  mere 
baby  will  take  so  strangely  to  relatives  seen  for 
the  first  time,  and  even  to  a  stranger  who  has  a 
heart  of  love  for  children.  And  now  think  for  a 
moment  what  all  these  must  be  in  their  perfection, 
and  then  where  is  the  limit  to  our  adoration,  our 
wonder,  our  contrition,  save,  alas !  in  our  own 
terrible  incapacity  ?  '  Ah,  no  more  :  thou  break'st 
my  heart.'     And  then,  think  of  being  infolded  in 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE  xxiii 

that  Life,  renewed  by  that  indwelling  Grace, 
until  changed  into  that  image  !  With  this  hope 
before  us,  can  it  make  much  difference  what  the 
outward  life  is,  save  as  it  helps  toward  the  great 
consummation  ?  May  you  be  helped  to  bear  all 
the  blessedness  of  Christmas  morning,  without 
entire  failure  of  physical  strength." 

The  last  few  years  of  Miss  Scudder's  life  saw 
her  compelled  to  move  north  and  south  as  the 
seasons  succeeded  each  other,  and  to  be  separated 
frequently  from  her  beloved  sister.  But  there 
came  an  hour  when  the  separation  ended.  On 
Sunday,  27  September,  1896,  Mrs.  Andrews  died 
after  a  very  brief  illness,  in  Weston,  Massachu- 
setts. Her  sister  Eliza  left  the  house  where  she 
lay  and  returned  to  her  cousin's,  near  by.  It 
was  but  a  few  hours  only  before  she  also  suddenly, 
and  without  the  pain  of  taking  leave  of  those 
dear  to  her,  rejoined  her  sister.  They  were 
buried  side  by  side  in  the  quiet  graveyard  at 
Weston. 

H.  E.  S. 


THE  LABURNUM 

This  young  tree's  drooping  flowers,  lovely  and  fair 
And  bright  as  colored  by  the  sun's  own  glow, 
Meseem,  beloved,  like  the  golden  hair 
That  round  thy  temples  gracefully  doth  flow  ; 
And,  while  I  at  my  window  sat  yestreen, 
Through  the  close-mingling  branches  of  the  trees 
One  only  of  the  blossoms  bright  was  seen 
foyously  waving  in  the  summer  breeze. 
And  then  I  thought  how  thou  hadst  been  to  me, 
Even  as  this  flower,  the  only  bright  fair  thing 
Which  'mid  surrounding  shades  mine  eye  could  see, 
While  through  dark  years  I  have  been  journeying 
All  lonely  but  for  thee.     Heaven  help  my  heart 
When  the  flower  withers  and  thy  steps  depart. 
1845. 


HYMNS   AND   SONNETS 

TO  A  YOUNG  CHILD 

As  doth  his  heart  who  travels  far  from  home 
Leap  up  whenever  he  by  chance  doth  see 
One  from  his  mother-country  lately  come, 
Friend  from  my  home  —  thus  do  I  welcome  thee. 
Thou  art  so  late  arrived  that  I  the  tale 
Of  thy  high  lineage  on  thy  brow  can  trace, 
And  almost  feel  the  breath  of  that  soft  gale 
That  wafted  thee  unto  this  desert  place, 
And  half  can  hear  those  ravishing  sounds  that 

flowed 
From  out  Heaven's  gate  when  it  was  oped  for 

thee, 

i 


2  TO  A    YOUNG   CHILD 

That  thou  awhile  mightst  leave  thy  bright  abode 
Amid  these  lone  and  desolate  tracks  to  be 
A  homesick,  weary  wanderer,  and  then 
Return  unto  thy  native  land  again. 
1846. 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD 

Thou  Grace  Divine,  encircling  all, 
A  soundless,  shoreless  sea ! 

Wherein  at  last  our  souls  must  fall, 
O  Love  of  God  most  free ! 

When  over  dizzy  heights  we  go, 
One  soft  hand  blinds  our  eyes ; 

The  other  leads  us  safe  and  slow, 
O  Love  of  God  most  wise ! 

And  though  we  turn  us  from  Thy  face, 
And  wander  wide  and  long, 

Thou  hold'st  us  still  in  Thine  embrace, 
O  Love  of  God  most  strong ! 
3 


4  THE  LOVE   OF  GOD 

The  saddened  heart,  the  restless  soul, 

The  toil-worn  frame  and  mind, 
Alike  confess  Thy  sweet  control, 

O  Love  of  God  most  kind ! 

But  not  alone  Thy  care  we  claim, 
Our  wayward  steps  to  win  ; 

We  know  Thee  by  a  dearer  name, 
O  Love  of  God  within ! 

And  filled  and  quickened  by  Thy  breath 
Our  souls  are  strong  and  free 

To  rise  o'er  sin  and  fear  and  death, 
O  Love  of  God,  to  Thee ! 
1852. 


THE   NEW   HEAVEN 

Let  whosoever  will,  inquire 

Of  spirit,  or  of  seer, 
To  shape  unto  the  heart's  desire 

The  new  life's  vision  clear. 

My  God,  I  rather  look  to  Thee 
Than  to  these  fancies  fond, 

And  wait,  till  Thou  reveal  to  me 
That  fair  and  far  Beyond. 

I  seek  not  of  Thine  Eden-land 
The  forms  and  hues  to  know,  — 

What  trees  in  mystic  order  stand, 
What  strange,  sweet  waters  flow ; 
5 


6  THE  NEW  HEAVEN 

What  duties  fill  the  heavenly  day, 

Or  converse  glad  and  kind, 
Or  how  along  each  shining  way 
The  bright  processions  wind. 

Oh  joy !  to  hear  with  sense  new  born 
The  angels'  greeting  strains, 

And  sweet  to  see  the  first  fair  morn 
Gild  the  celestial  plains. 

But  sweeter  far  to  trust  in  Thee 
While  all  is  yet  unknown, 

And  through  the  death-dark  cheerily 
To  walk  with  Thee  alone. 

In  Thee  my  powers,  my  treasures  live, 
To  Thee  my  life  must  tend ; 


THE  NEW  HEAVEN 
Giving  Thyself,  Thou  all  dost  give, 
O  soul-sufficing  friend ! 

And  wherefore  should  I  seek  above 

Thy  city  in  the  sky  ? 
Since  firm  in  faith  and  deep  in  love 

Its  broad  foundations  lie  ; 

Since  in  a  life  of  peace  and  prayer, 
Nor  known  on  earth,  nor  praised, 

By  humblest  toil,  by  ceaseless  care, 
Its  holy  towers  are  raised. 

Where  pain  the  soul  hath  purified, 
And  penitence  hath  shriven, 

And  truth  is  crowned  and  glorified, 
There  —  only  there  —  is  Heaven. 
1855. 


EPITAPH   ON   AN   OLD   MAID 

Rest,  gentle  traveller !  on  life's  toilsome  way 
Pause  here  awhile  —  yet  o'er  this  slumbering  clay 
No  weeping,  but  a  joyful  tribute  pay. 

For  this  green  nook,  by  sun  and  showers  made 

warm, 
Gives  welcome  rest  to  an  o'er-wearied  form 
Whose  mortal  life  knew  many  a  wintry  storm. 

Yet,  ere  the  spirit  gained  a  full  release 
From  earth,  she  had  attained  that  land  of  peace 
Where  seldom  clouds  obscure,  and  tempests  cease. 
8 


EPITAPH  ON  AN  OLD  MAID  9 

No    chosen    spot    of   ground    she    called    her 

own ; 
In  pilgrim  guise  on  earth  she  wandered  on, 
Yet    alway    in    her    path    some    flowers    were 

strewn. 

No  dear  ones  were  her  own  peculiar  care, 
So  was  her  bounty  free  as  Heaven's  air, 
For  every  claim  she  had  enough  to  spare. 

And  loving  more  her  heart  to  give  than  lend, 
Though  oft  deceived  in  many  a  trusted  friend, 
She  hoped,  believed,  and  trusted  to  the  end. 

She  had  her  joys  :  'twas  joy  to  live,  to  love, 
To  labor  in  the  world  with  God  above, 
And  tender  hearts  that  ever  near  did  move. 


io  EPITAPH  ON  AN  OLD  MAID 

She  had  her  griefs ;  but  why  recount  them  here,  - 
The  heart-sick  loneness,  the  on-looking  fear, 
The  days  of  desolation,  dark  and  drear,  — 

Since  every  agony  left  peace  behind, 
And  healing  came  on  every  stormy  wind, 
And  still  with  silver  every  cloud  was  lined, 

And  every  loss  sublimed  some  low  desire, 

And  every  sorrow  taught  her  to  aspire, 

Till  waiting  angels  bade  her  "go  up  higher." 


SUMMER   DEPARTING 

She  will  not  linger ;  all  in  vain  thy  calling 
On  the  sweet  summer  •  fair  her  reign,  but  brief ; 
Seest  thou  not  even  now  her  ripe  fruit  falling, 
And  here  and  there  one  warning  yellow  leaf  ? 
How  hath  she  blessed  us  !  now  let  her  depart 
To  gladden  other  skies,  and  mourn  her  not. 
Nothing  of  her  but  liveth  in  the  heart ; 
Her  grace  remaineth,  though  she  seems  forgot ; 
The   freshness   that  hath   cheered   thy  morning 

hours, 
The  sunset  glory  that  hath  lit  thine  eye, 
The   night  wind's  voice,  the  sweet  perfume  of 

flowers, 


12  SUMMER  DEPARTING 

Have  passed  into  thy  life,  no  more  to  die, 
And  shall  be  raised  again,  in  that  last  day, 
When  thy  first  earth  and  heaven  have  fled  away. 


THE  DREAMER 

I  know  I  dream ;  these  are  no  earthly  bowers 

Wherein  the  enraptured  fancy  roams  at  will. 

This  warmth,  this  light,  this  sunshine  and  these 
showers 

Might  ne'er  be  known  to  waking  sense  and  skill. 

I  know  I  dream  —  full  soon  will  come  the  mor- 
row, 

With  its  cold  vapors  and  its  leaden  sky ; 

Yet  from  these  dreamings,  hope  some  hues  may 
borrow 

To  show  how  fair  the  lovelier  land  on  high. 

I  know  I  dream  —  but  prythee  do  not  wake  me, 

Let  wilful  nature  have  awhile  her  way  j 
13 


i4  THE  DREAMER 

Nor  will  I  mourn  when  these  bright  hues  forsake 

me, 
And  melt  into  the  light  of  common  day, 
Since  to  the  trusting  soul  the  faith  is  given 
That  this  life's  dreams  shall  prove  the  truths  of 

heaven. 


TRUTH 

Thou  long  disowned,  reviled,  opprest, 
Strange  friend  of  human  kind, 

Seeking  through  weary  years  a  rest 
Within  our  heart  to  find. 

How  late  thy  bright  and  awful  brow 
Breaks  through  these  clouds  of  sin ! 

Hail,  Truth  Divine !  we  know  thee  now, 
Angel  of  God,  come  in ! 

Come,  though  with  purifying  fire 

And  desolating  sword, 
Thou  of  all  nations  the  desire, 

Earth  waits  Thy  cleansing  word. 
15 


16  TRUTH 

Struck  by  the  lightning  of  Thy  glance 

Let  old  oppressions  die  ! 
Before  Thy  cloudless  countenance 
Let  fear  and  falsehood  fly ! 

Anoint  our  eyes  with  healing  grace 

To  see  as  ne'er  before 
Our  Father,  in  our  brother's  face, 

Our  Master,  in  His  poor. 

Flood  our  dark  life  with  golden  day ! 

Convince,  subdue,  enthrall ! 
Then  to  a  mightier  yield  Thy  sway, 

And  Love  be  all  in  all ! 

January,  i860. 


THE  QUEST 

"  Whither  shall  I  go  from  Thy  spirit  ?  or  whither  shall 
I  flee  from  Thy  presence  ? " 

I  cannot  find  Thee  !     Still  on  restless  pinion 
My  spirit   beats   the   void   where   Thou   dost 
dwell  j 

I  wander  lost  through  all  Thy  vast  dominion, 
And  shrink  beneath  Thy  light  ineffable. 

I  cannot  find  Thee !     E'en  when  most  adoring 
Before  Thy  throne  I  bend  in  lowliest  prayer ; 
Beyond  these  bounds  of  thought,  my  thought  up- 
soaring 
From  farthest  quest  comes  back ;  Thou  art  not 
there. 

17 


18  THE   QUEST 

Yet  high  above  the  limits  of  my  seeing, 

And  folded  far  within  the  inmost  heart, 
And  deep  below  the  deeps  of  conscious  being, 

Thy  splendor  shineth;   there,  O   God,  Thou 
art. 

I  cannot  lose  Thee  !     Still  in  Thee  abiding 
The  end  is  clear,  how  wide  soe'er  I  roam ; 

The  Hand  that   holds  the  worlds   my  steps  is 
guiding, 
And  I  must  rest  at  last,  in  Thee,  my  home. 


IN  WAR  TIME— 1863 

Why  wilt  thou  ask,  0  doubting  friend, 
Where  are  the  poets  of  these  days  ? 

Not  yet  is  found  a  voice  to  blend 
Our  wail  of  woe,  our  psalm  of  praise. 

Some  laurel  leaves  of  graceful  rhyme 

Wreathe  here  and  there  some  victor's  brow, 

But  the  great  poems  for  this  time 
Cannot  be  written  —  oh,  not  now  ! 

Not  now,  while  hand  and  heart  and  brain 
For  deeds  of  sternest  toil  are  strung, 
19 


IN  WAR    TIME 
And  precious  life-blood  drops  like  rain, 
Can  half  our  pride  or  grief  be  sung. 

When  the  young  Bayard  of  our  race 
Fell  fighting  with  his  dusky  throng, 

Close  clasped  for  aye  in  death's  embrace, 
O  friend  !  was  this  a  time  for  song  ? 

We  weep  and  watch,  we  work  and  pray ; 

We  hail  the  dawn  that  far  exceeds 
The  noontide  of  our  peaceful  day ; 

But  all  our  utterance  is  in  deeds. 

But  wait  till  out  of  pain  and  strife 
Our  new  and  nobler  peace  is  born ; 

Wait  till  the  nation's  coming  life 

Moves  radiant  through  the  gates  of  morn. 


IN  WAR    TIME  21 

Then  where  the  share  was  deepest  driven 

Shall  glow  the  autumn's  choicest  store  ; 
And  where  the  billows  swelled  to  heaven 

Seek  ocean's  treasures  on  the  shore. 

Then  look  and  listen !  then  when  Art 
To  perfect  shape  shall  freely  grow, 

And  forms  of  grace  instinctive  start, 
The  marble  breathe,  the  canvas  glow. 

And  then,  in  that  accepted  hour, 

On  waves  of  mingling  melody 
Shall  rise  our  song  of  praise  and  power, 

The  choral  anthem  of  the  free  ! 


TO   G.    S. 

Of  all  the  days  that  gild  the  gladsome  year, 

Not  the  first  freshness  of  the  vernal  time, 

Nor  the  refulgent  pomp  of  summer's  prime 

Giveth  to  me  such  warm  and  heartfelt  cheer 

As  the  sweet  season  that  brings  in  the  morn 

With  roseate  flush  tempered  with  golden  haze, 

And  fabled  splendors  of  the  Orient  lays, 

On  glowing  woods  and  fields  of  ripened  corn ; 

How  like  a  life  by  purest  goodness  filled ; 

Its  wise  deeds  as  the  ripe  and  garnered  fruit ; 

Its  wild  hopes  chastened,  and  its  tumults  stilled 

In  air  serene  of  thought  entranced  and  mute. 

O  friend !  this  hand  in  flattery  unskilled 

For  thee  alone  thus  strikes  this  wandering  lute. 
October,  1866. 


NO   MORE   SEA 

Life  of  our  life,  and  Light  of  all  our  seeing, 
How  shall  we  rest  on  any  hope  but  Thee  ? 

What  time  our  souls,  to  Thee  for  refuge  fleeing, 
Long  for  the  home  where  there  is  no  more  sea  ? 

For  still  this  sea  of  life,  with  endless  wailing, 
Dashes  above  our  heads  its  blinding  spray, 

And  vanquished  hearts,  sick  with  remorse  and 
failing, 
Moan  like  the  waves  at  set  of  autumn  day. 

And  ever  round  us  swells  the  insatiate  ocean 
Of  sin  and  doubt  that  lures  us  to  our  grave ; 
23 


24  NO  MORE  SEA 

When  its  wild  billows  with  their  mad  commotion 
Would  sweep  us  down  —  then  only  Thou  canst 
save. 

And  deep  and  dark  the  fearful  gloom  unlighted, 
Of  that  untried  and  all-surrounding  sea, 

On  whose  bleak  shore  arriving  lone,  benighted, 
We  fall  and  lose  ourselves  at  last  —  in  Thee. 

Yea  !  in  Thy  life  our  little  lives  are  ended, 
Into  Thy  depths  our  trembling  spirits  fall ; 

In  Thee  enfolded,  gathered,  comprehended, 
As  holds  the  sea  her  waves  —  Thou  hold'st  us 

all. 
August,  1870. 


TO  L.   M.   C. 

The  hastening  year  brings  round  once  more,  dear 

friend, 
This  welcome  day  which  to  the  earth  did  lend 
Such  grace  as  sent  you  here  awhile  to  live ; 
Wherefore  due  thanks  I  ever  duly  give, 
Knowing  too  well  what  stores  of  ripened  thought, 
What  works  of  love,  in  shapely  order  wrought, 
What  inspiration  waiting  hearts  to  fill, 
What  bright   designs,   traced   out   with   patient 

skill, 
What  converse  sweet,  what  counsel   wise   and 

clear, 
The  world  and  I  had  missed,  without  you  here. 
Dear  friend,  be  happy !     Be  the  lengthened  way 
25 


26  TO  L.  M.   C. 

Transfigured  in  the  retrospect  to-day ! 
Sunk  out  of  sight,  its  vales  of  pain  and  grief, 
Its  radiant  heights  stand  forth  in  clear  relief, 
And  all  the  brightness  of  the  past  be  thrown 
Forward,  to  where  Love  waits  to  claim  his  own. 
February,  187 1. 


WHOM   BUT  THEE 

From  past  regret  and  present  faithlessness, 
From  the  deep  shadow  of  foreseen  distress, 
And  from  the  nameless  weariness  that  grows 
As  life's  long  day  seems  wearing  to  its  close ; 

Thou  Life  within  my  life,  than  self  more  near ! 
Thou  veiled  Presence  infinitely  clear ! 
From  all  illusive  shows  of  sense  I  flee, 
To  find  my  centre  and  my  rest  in  Thee. 

Below  all  depths  Thy  saving  mercy  lies, 
Through  thickest  glooms  I  see  Thy  light  arise ; 
Above  the  highest  heavens  Thou  art  not  found 
More  surely  than  within  this  earthly  round. 
27 


28  WHOM  BUT  THEE 

Take  part  with  me  against  these  doubts  that  rise 
And  seek  to  throne  Thee  far  in  distant  skies ! 
Take  part  with  me  against  this  self  that  dares 
Assume  the  burden  of  these  sins  and  cares ! 

How  shall  I  call  Thee  who  art  always  here, 
How  shall  I  praise  Thee  who  art  still  most  dear, 
What  may  I  give  Thee   save  what  Thou  hast 

given, 
And  whom  but  Thee  have  I  in  earth  or  heaven  ? 
August,  1 87 1. 


IN   MEMORIAM   F.    D.    B. 

December  4,  1871 

To  pass  through  life  beloved  as  few  are  loved, 
To  prove  the  joys  of  earth  as  few  have  proved, 
And  still  to  keep  the  soul's  white  robe  unstained, 
Such  is  the  victory  that  thou  hast  gained. 

How  few,  like  thine,  the  pilgrim  feet  that  come 
Unworn,  unwounded  to  the  heavenly  home ! 
Yet  He  who  guides  in  sorrow's  sorest  need 
As  well  by  pleasant  paths  His  own  may  lead. 

And  Love,  that  guards  where  wintry  tempests 

beat, 
To  thee  was  shelter  from  the  summer  heat. 
29 


30  IN  MEMORIAM  F.  D.  B. 

What  need  for  grief  to  blight  or  cares  annoy 
The  heart  whose  God  was  her  exceeding  joy  ? 

And  so  that  radiant  path,  all  sweet  and  pure, 
Found  fitting  close  in  perfect  peace  secure ; 
No  haste  to  go,  no  anxious  wish  to  stay, 
No  childish  terror  of  the  untried  way. 

But  wrapped    in  trance  of   holy   thought    and 

prayer, 
Yet  full  of  human  tenderness  and  care, 
Undimmed  its  lustre  and  unchilled  its  love, 
Thy  spirit  passed  to  cloudless  light  above. 


In  the  far  North,  where  over  frosts  and  gloom 
The  midnight  skies  with  rosy  brightness  bloom, 
There  comes  in  all  the  year  one  day  complete, 
Wherein  the  sunset  and  the  sunrise  meet. 


IN  MEMORIAM  F.  B.  D.  31 

So  in  the  region  of  thy  fearless  faith, 
No  hour  of  darkness  marked  the  approach  of 

death, 
But  ere  the  evening  splendor  was  withdrawn, 
Fair  flushed  the  light  along  the  hills  of  dawn. 


OUT  OF  THE   SHADOW 

"  Rejoice  ye,  and  be  glad  with  her,  all  ye  that  love  her : 
rejoice  for  joy  with  her,  all  ye  that  mourn  for  her."  —  Isa. 
lxvi.  10. 

Gentle  friends  who  gather  here, 

Drop  no  unavailing  tear, 

With  no  gloom  surround  this  bier. 

Bid  this  weary  frame  opprest, 

Welcome  to  its  longed-for  rest 

On  the  fair  earth's  sheltering  breast. 

And  the  spirit  freed  from  clay, 
Give  glad  leave  to  soar  away, 
Singing,  to  the  eternal  day. 
32 


OUT  OF  THE  SHADOW  33 

When  this  sentient  life  began, 
Love  of  nature,  love  of  man 
Through  its  kindling  pulses  ran ; 

Eagerly  these  eyes  looked  forth 
Questioning  the  teeming  earth 
For  its  stores  of  truth  and  worth. 

Head  and  heart  with  schemes  were  rife, 
Longing  for  some  noMe  strife, 
Planning  for  some  perfect  life ; 

But  the  Father's  love  decreed 
Other  work  and  other  meed, 
And  by  ways  unsought  did  lead ; 

Turned  aside  the  outstretched  hand, 

Bade  the  feet  inactive  stand, 

Checked  the  work  that  thought  had  planned ; 


34  OUT  OF  THE  SHADOW 

And  on  eyes  that  loved  to  gaze 
Upon  light's  intensest  rays 
Dropped  a  veil  of  gentle  haze. 

How  the  musing  spirit  burned ! 
How  the  wilful  nature  yearned, 
And  its  sacred  limits  spurned ! 

Known,  O  Father,  unto  Thee, 

All  the  long  captivity 

Of  the  soul,  at  last  set  free ; 

And  how  hard  it  was  to  see 
Thy  great  harvests  silently 
Whitening  upon  land  and  lea ; 

And  to  watch  the  reapers'  throng, 
Filling  all  the  vales  with  song, 
As  they  bore  their  sheaves  along. 


OUT  OF  THE  SHADOW  35 

And  to  Thee,  0  pitying  God, 
Known  Thy  grace  that  overflowed 
All  that  still  and  sacred  road, 

Where  Thy  patience  brought  relief 
Following  in  Thy  path  of  grief, 
Thou  of  suffering  souls  the  chief ! 

Yet,  since  Thou  hast  stooped  to  say, 
"  Cast  that  outworn  robe  away, 
Come  and  rest  with  me  to-day,  — 

"  Come  to  larger  life  and  power, 
Come  to  strength  renewed  each  hour, 
Come  to  truth's  unfailing  dower ;  " — 

To  the  dear  ones  gathered  here 

Make  Thy  loving  purpose  clear, 

And  Thy  light  shine  round  this  bier. 
1872. 


LINES   FOR   MUSIC 

As  the  lost  who  vainly  wander, 
As  the  blind  who  widely  roam, 

Vexed  with  doubt,  our  spirits  ponder 
Till  we  come  to  Thee,  —  our  home. 

As  the  mother  fond  watch  keepeth, 
As  the  shepherd  knows  his  sheep, 

So  Thine  eye  that  never  sleepeth 
All  Thine  own  in  sight  doth  keep. 

As  the  wave  is  lost  in  ocean, 
As  the  day-star  melts  in  light, 

Draw  to  Thee  each  wavering  motion, 
Thou  whose  coming  ends  our  night. 
February,  1873. 

36 


VESPER   HYMN 

The  day  is  done ;  the  weary  day  of  thought  and 

toil  is  past, 
Soft  falls  the  twilight  cool  and  gray,  on  the  tired 

earth  at  last : 
By  wisest  teachers  wearied,  by  gentlest  friends 

opprest, 
In   Thee   alone  the  soul,  outworn,  refreshment 

finds  and  rest. 

Bend,  gracious  Spirit,  from  above,  like  these  o'er- 
arching  skies, 

And  to  Thy  firmament  of  love  lift  up  these  long- 
ing eyes ; 

37 


38  VESPER  HYMN 

And  folded  by  Thy  sheltering  Hand,  in  refuge 

still  and  deep, 
Let  blessed  thoughts  from  Thee  descend,  as  drop 

the  dews  of  sleep. 

And  when  refreshed,  the  soul  once  more  puts  on 

new  life  and  power ; 
Oh  let  Thine  image,  Lord,  alone,  gild  the  first 

waking  hour. 
Let  that  dear  Presence  rise  and  glow,  fairer  than 

morn's  first  ray, 
And  Thy  pure  radiance  overflow  the  splendor  of 

the  day. 

So  in   the  hastening  evening,  so  in  the  coming 

morn, 
When  deeper  slumber  shall  be  given,  and  fresher 

life  be  born, 


VESPER  HYMN  39 

Shine  out,  true  Light !  to  guide  my  way  amid  that 

deepening  gloom, 
And  rise,  O   Morning   Star,  the  first  that  day- 
spring  to  illume. 

I  cannot  dread  the  darkness,  where  Thou  wilt 

watch  o'er  me, 
Nor  smile  to  greet  the  sunrise,  unless  Thy  smile 

I  see; 
Creator,  Saviour,  Comforter !  on  Thee  my  soul  is 

cast; 
At  morn,  at  night,  in  earth,  in  heaven,  be  Thou 

my  First  and  Last. 
October,  1874. 


COLLECT  FOR  ASCENSION  DAY 

Grant,  we  beseech  thee,  Almighty  God,  that  like  as  we 
do  believe  thy  only  begotten  Son  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to 
have  ascended  into  the  heavens ;  so  we  may  also  in  heart 
and  mind  thither  ascend,  and  with  him  continually  dwell, 
who  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one 
God,  world  without  end. 

Thou  hast  gone  up  again, 

Thou,  who  didst  first  come  down, 

Thou  hast  gone  up  to  reign, 
Gone  up,  from  Cross  to  Crown. 

Beyond  the  opening  sky 

No  more  Thy  face  we  see ; 
Yet  draw  our  souls  on  high, 

That  we  may  dwell  with  Thee. 
40 


COLLECT  FOR  ASCENSION  DAY  41 

Up  to  those  regions  blest, 

Where  faith  has  fullest  sway, 
Up  to  Thine  endless  rest, 

Up  to  Thy  cloudless  day, 

Up  to  that  glowing  life, 

Up  to  that  perfect  peace, 
Unvexed  by  doubt  or  strife, 

Where  care  and  conflict  cease, 

Up,  up  to  where  Thou  art, 

Fount  of  unwasting  Love, 
Up  to  that  mighty  Heart, 

All  its  great  power  to  prove. 

Not  now  for  distant  heaven 
Or  future  life  we  pray, 


42  COLLECT  FOR  ASCENSION  DAY 

Lord,  let  Thy  grace  be  given 
To  make  us  Thine  to-day. 

Here,  hold  us  in  Thy  hand, 
Here,  by  Thy  spirit  guide, 

So  shall  our  hearts  ascend, 
And  still  with  Thee  abide. 

May  14,  1874. 


COLLECT  FOR  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER 
EPIPHANY 

Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  dost  govern  all  things 
in  heaven  and  earth ;  mercifully  hear  the  supplications  of 
thy  people,  and  grant  us  thy  peace  all  the  days  of  our  life ; 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

Grant  us  Thy  peace,  down  from  Thy  presence 

falling 

As  on  the  thirsty  earth  cool  night-dews  sweet, 

Grant  us  Thy  peace,  to  Thy  pure  paths  recalling, 

From  devious  ways,  our  worn  and  wandering 

feet. 

Grant  us  Thy  peace,  through  winning  and  through 
losing, 
Through  gloom  and  gladness  of  our  pilgrim 
way, 

43 


44      SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY 
Grant  us  Thy  peace,  safe  in  Thy  love's  enclosing, 
Thou,  who  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  dost 
sway. 

Give  us  Thy  peace,  not  as  the  world  has  given 
In  momentary  rays  that  fitful  gleamed, 

But  calm,  deep,  sure,  the  peace  of  spirits  shriven, 
Of  hearts  surrendered  and  of  souls  redeemed. 

Grant  us  Thy  peace,  that  like  a  deepening  river 
Swells  ever  outward  to  a  sea  of  praise. 

O  Thou,  of  peace  the  only  Lord  and  Giver, 
Grant  us  Thy  peace,  O  Saviour,  all  our  days ! 


THANKSGIVING 

"  We  bless  Thee  ...  for  the  means  of  grace  and  for  the 
hope  of  glory." 

For  the  rapt  stillness  of  the  place 
Where  sacred  song  and  ordered  prayer 

Wait  the  unveiling  of  Thy  face, 

And  seek  Thy  angels'  joys  to  share ; 

For  souls  won  o'er  to  truth  and  right, 
For  wisdom  dropping  as  the  dew, 

For  Thy  great  Word  in  lines  of  light, 
Made  visible  to  mortal  view ; 

For  gladness  of  the  summer  morning, 
For  fair  faint  twilight's  lingering  ray, 
45 


46  THANKSGIVING 

For  forest's  and  for  field's  adorning, 
And  the  wild  ocean's  ceaseless  play ; 

For  flowers  unsought,  in  desert  places 
Flashing  enchantment  on  the  sight ; 

For  radiance  on  familiar  faces 
As  they  passed  upward  into  light ; 

For  blessings  of  the  fruitful  season, 

For  work  and  rest,  for  friends  and  home, 

For  the  great  gifts  of  thought  and  reason, — 
To  praise  and  bless  Thee,  Lord,  we  come. 

Yes,  and  for  weeping  and  for  wailing, 
For  bitter  hail  and  blighting  frost, 


THANKSGIVING  47 

For  high  hopes  on  the  low  earth  trailing, 
For  sweet  joys  missed,  for  pure  aims  crost ; 

For  lonely  toil  and  tribulation, 

And  e'en  for  hidings  of  Thy  face,  — 

For  these  Thy  heralds  of  salvation, 
Thy  means  and  messengers  of  grace. 

With  joy  supreme,  with  faith  unbroken, 
With  worship  passing  thought  or  speech, 

Of  Thy  dear  love  we  hail  each  token, 
And  give  Thee  humble  thanks  for  each. 

For  o'er  our  struggling  and  our  sighing, 
Now  quenched  in  mist,  now  glimmering  far 


48  THANKSGIVING 

Above  our  living  and  our  dying, 

Hangs  high  in  Heaven  one  beckoning  star. 

And  when  we  gather  up  the  story 
Of  all  Thy  mercies  flowing  free, 

Crown  of  them  all,  that  hope  of  glory, 
Of  growing  ever  nearer  Thee. 


THE  WILD  ROSE 

TO  A   YOUNG   FRIEND 
(V.  D.  S.) 

Fair  are  the  flowers  the  tardy  Spring, 

At  last  fulfilling  all  our  hope 
With  largess  late,  is  wont  to  fling 

Along  our  Northern  slope. 

For  us  the  cowslip  sheds  its  gold ; 

For  us  the  May-flower  breathes  perfume ; 
And  in  our  meadows,  low  and  cold, 

White  violets  bloom. 

But  some  resplendent  morn  of  June, 
When  sunbeams  thrill  with  fervid  power, 
49 


50  THE  WILD  ROSE 

And  sea-waves  chant  a  murmurous  rune, 
Come,  see  our  perfect  flower. 

From  sunset  skies  of  molten  red 

Her  deeply  glowing  hues  were  wrought ; 

From  pearly  shell  in  ocean's  bed 
Her  paler  tints  were  caught. 

Her  tender  greenery  gently  fills 
With  graceful,  softened  shape 

The  outline  of  the  rugged  hills 
All  round  our  Cape. 

She  flashes  in  the  deepest  wood ; 

We  trace  her  by  the  brooklet's  edge ; 
But  most  where  billows  harsh  and  rude 

Beat  on  the  cruel  ledge. 


THE  WILD  ROSE  i 

Her  dauntless  smile  we  love  to  greet : 
Life's  central  radiance  through  her  flows  j 

Her  fragrance  makes  the  east  wind  sweet  — 
Our  beautiful  Wild  Rose. 

So,  to  our  Duty's  sober  days, 

By  salt  waves  lapped,  by  sharp  crags  torn  — 
So,  to  our  sombre  shaded  ways, 

Set  round  by  brake  and  thorn  — 

In  modest  pride  of  gracious  youth, 
With  heart  of  love,  with  soul  serene, 

With  dewy  purity  and  truth, 
She  comes,  our  Eglantine. 


THE   MORNING  WATCH 

Along  the  horizon's  utmost  line 
Behold  a  presage  and  a  sign ! 
Dull  heavy  night-clouds  roll  away : 
The  east  is  flecked  with  shimmering  gray ; 
Then  glows  afar  a  rosy  mist 
That  melts  in  purest  amethyst ; 
Then  crimson-tipped  the  billows  run, 
And  lo  !  the  advent  of  the  sun. 

Where  stands  God's  Altar,  duteous  feet 
Hasten  to  Him  Who  comes  to  greet 
As  evermore  His  two  or  three. 
O  wondrous  thought !     Can  this  be  He 
Who  walked  the  waves,  Who  calmed  the  sea, 
52 


THE  MORNING  WATCH  53 

And  still  above  its  rush  and  roar, 
Sitteth  a  King  forevermore  ? 

Behold  He  cometh !  round  His  Feet, 
Like  pearly  clouds  of  incense  sweet, 
Float  words  of  prayer  and  songs  of  praise  — 
The  offering  trembling  hearts  may  raise. 
Above  the  restless,  tossing  sea 
Of  Life,  that  moaneth  wearily, 
Above  our  sins,  our  wants,  our  woes, 
Out  from  the  Heaven  of  His  repose, 

His  Presence  shines.     O  Host  Divine ! 
In  glow  of  sacrificial  Wine 
From  Mercy's  deeps  for  us  outpoured, 
Lighten  our  eyes  to  know  our  Lord ! 
Guide  of  the  lost,  Star  of  the  Sea, 


54  THE  MORNING  WATCH 

Call  home  these  straying  hearts  to  Thee, 
And  let  us  praise  Thee  as  is  meet, 
And  our  most  bounden  duty  sweet, 

Until  the  Morning  Watch  is  o'er, 
And  on  the  far  Eternal  Shore 
Dawns  the  New  Day  that  sets  no  more. 
Atlantic  Cityy  February  2,  1894. 


